Tui

Scene — Home. Tui is alone.

The front door clicked shut behind him, but the sound was small. Muted. Like everything else lately.

Tui slipped off his shoes without turning on the lights. The city outside was still awake, distant horns and tires whispering across wet roads, but inside the apartment — it was still. Empty.

The others were gone tonight. Recording late, maybe. Or staying at the studio. Tui had lied, said he had a headache. Said he needed rest. Said he’d catch up tomorrow.

He moved through the darkness like it was second nature, dropping his bag by the couch, heading to the kitchen. Opened the fridge. Closed it again without taking anything. His stomach turned at the idea of food.

He stood there for a moment, hand braced against the table, head bowed.

Then — carefully, quietly — he pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie.

A purpling mark bloomed just above the inside of his arm. Another was hidden beneath his collarbone, out of sight even to himself. He stared at it blankly. Not angry. Not sad.

Just tired.

He rolled the sleeve back down and walked to the bathroom. Turned on the light. Winced.

The mirror didn’t lie. His lip was split, barely visible. His left cheekbone had a faint flush to it — soon to darken, then fade, like it always did.

He washed his face in silence.

The sound of water running was the only noise in the whole apartment.

Later, he sat on the edge of his bed in a clean t-shirt and sweats, legs pulled to his chest, back against the wall. His phone buzzed once. Then again.

He didn’t look at it.

He stared at the ceiling instead, counting the cracks in the paint. Wondering how many more days he could keep pretending everything was fine. How many more nights he could come home and hide it all in silence.

Just a little longer, he thought.

I just need to hold it together a little longer.

But even he didn’t know how long “a little” really was.

Scene — Night. The apartment.

It was raining lightly outside, the sound of it soft against the windows. The apartment was dim, quiet. 

Tui had just made himself a cup of instant noodles when a knock came at the door.

Not the buzzer. A knock. Direct. Quiet.

He froze.

His heart stopped for half a beat, then thudded hard into motion again. He set the cup down carefully, his fingers already shaking.

He knew that knock. Too soft for a delivery. Too certain to be a neighbor.

"Tui. Open the door."

The message had come fifteen minutes ago. He hadn’t replied. Had hoped, foolishly, that silence would be enough. But his boyfriend didn’t like being ignored.

Another knock. This time sharper. Still quiet, but urgent. Threatening, in its way.

Tui glanced toward the hallway, listening — nothing. No footsteps. No doors opening. Good.

He padded barefoot to the door and opened it just enough to slip out into the hallway, pulling it shut behind him with a soft click.

The man stood there, hood up, face half-shadowed. But Tui could see the familiar set of his jaw. The slight twitch in his fingers that meant he was already angry.

“You didn’t answer,” the boyfriend said.

“I — I was tired,” Tui whispered.

“Too tired to pick up your fucking phone?”

Tui flinched, even though no one else was around. “Please… not here. They’re inside. Please keep your voice down.”

The man stepped closer, the toe of his shoe bumping into Tui’s. “Are you really this stupid, Tui? You think they care about you? They’d drop you the second they found out who you really are.”

Tui’s eyes flickered toward the door. Please don’t let anyone come out. Please stay in your rooms.

“I’ll come with you later,” he said quickly, softly. “Just… not here. Not now. I’ll meet you, okay?”

The boyfriend scoffed. “Yeah. You’ll meet me. And we’ll have a real conversation about this ‘group’ of yours.”

Tui nodded, swallowing hard. “Just go. Please.”

For a moment, it looked like the man might reach for him — but he didn’t. He turned and walked back down the hall.

Tui waited until he was gone from view. Waited a full minute longer.

Then he slipped back into the apartment, locked the door quietly behind him, and pressed his forehead against it, eyes closing.